


Aziraphale's Paddle

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Non-Sexual Spanking, Other, Paddling, Punishment, Spanking, Strapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Crowley gladly takes on the responsibility of seeing to Aziraphale's discipline.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 181





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely indulgent little SWP (spanking without plot) fic!

After six thousand years, Crowley had learned a thing or two about properly taking care of his angel lover. As much as Aziraphale delighted in being spoiled (and he did have an _insatiable_ desire for pleasure), there was a part of him that craved a firm hand. Never one to miss the opportunity to indulge in any and all of Aziraphale’s needs, Crowley took it upon himself to see to the angel’s discipline. Though Aziraphale often groused about it, he never gave more than a token resistance, and so Crowley took that as unequivocal permission to continue.

When it came right down to it, sometimes Aziraphale just needed to be _punished_. Taking away treats and cancelling plans often elicited teary-eyed pouts, but nothing was ever so effective at ensuring the angel had learnt his lesson than a good old-fashioned bare bottom spanking. Aziraphale was, after all, prone to a particular sort of naughtiness that begged for a smacked bottom. Crowley loved Aziraphale with all his demon heart, but the angel could be rude, dismissive, forgetful, lazy, overindulgent, and he had a terrible penchant for fibbing.

It was hardly a bother to Crowley, since although he was no brute, a demonic part of him relished in warming Aziraphale’s pudgy backside while the angel squirmed over his lap. There was something exquisitely satisfying about the loud, crisp smacks and the way Aziraphale’s buttocks wobbled as they were covered with Crowley’s dark pink hand-prints.

Eventually, though, after many years, Crowley had to admit that the hand spankings had lost their potency. An implement was needed. Crowley had a terribly hard time choosing. He didn’t want to be cruel, and so he would never pick something _Hellish_ , but the angel needed a sharper sting in his seat if going over Crowley’s knee was still going to be an effective deterrent from bad behavior.

After loads of research and consideration, Crowley finally settled on a paddle. He chose one that was a small rectangle, solid wood, but not too thick. It had a sturdy handle from which hung a little loop of leather. When he first got it, he held it and smacked it against his own palm to find it had a very effective sting. It was _almost_ perfect. With a grin, Crowley traced ‘AZIRAPHALE’ in large capital letters across the business end with a bit of Hellfire on the tip of his finger, permanently engraving the name on the implement. Now there would be no question as to whose bottom this paddle was meant to spank.

This turned out to be a very effective addition, since Crowley was finding that a little shame went a long way in improving Aziraphale’s attitude. The holier-than-thou angel sometimes needed to be brought down a peg or two when he was being a naughty little cherub. Humility was a key component of discipline, after all. And so, Crowley took it upon himself to miracle a nail in a prominent spot on the wall of the bookshop and hung the paddle there. Sure, the few customers who came in to peruse the shop wouldn’t _know_ what the implement was for (that it was there as a reminder for the eccentric old bookseller to be on his best behavior lest he find his bottom on the receiving end of a good paddling!) However, having it hanging up there out in the open made Aziraphale fret, fidget, and flush in humiliation over even the slightest potential that someone might suspect the truth.

Little did Aziraphale know that Crowley had also left a little demonic miracle on the paddle that would alert him immediately if Aziraphale moved it out of sight while he was away. Of course, being a devious little cherub, Aziraphale tried hiding it as soon as possible which, coincidentally resulted in his very first paddling with the nasty implement.

The first time, Crowley only applied the paddle to the seat of Aziraphale’s trousers, worried that smacking the hard wood against the angel’s bare bottom might be too harsh. The paddle was wicked enough to burn plenty even with the fabric muffling the swats, if Aziraphale’s shrieks and flailing limbs were any indication. Crowley even checked after, pulling Aziraphale’s trousers and pants down to his knees, and was pleased to find the angel’s chubby globes had turned a nice glowing red. Though he did give Aziraphale a sharp little hand spanking for good measure before sending the angel to sit bare bottomed on the uncomfortably hard ‘naughty stool’ for reflection on his disobedience.

Regrettably, the paddling failed to have the desired effect. Aziraphale began exhibiting far too much cheek far too soon after being punished. Crowley had to accept that the guardian of the eastern gate was made of stronger stuff, and so he vowed not to go so easy the next time.

Finally, after a day full of general naughtiness beyond all reasonable limits, Crowley took Aziraphale over his knee again and asked very pointedly, “Isn’t it time we took those briefs down?” And though Aziraphale tensed and whimpered, he allowed Crowley to tug his bottoms down to his knee-hollows before the demon took up the paddle and smacked it down hard against the angel’s naked rump.

Aziraphale screeched after every loud crack of the wood as though he’d been scalded, but Crowley steeled himself, refusing to be lenient; not when Aziraphale was clearly in desperate need of a sound paddling on his bare bottom. No matter how much Aziraphale dramatically screamed his head off, kicked, and begged for mercy, Crowley did not relent. He paddled and paddled until every spankable portion of pudgy angel backside had been turned a deep, cherry red, and Aziraphale’s caterwauling had been reduced to sobbing repentance.

After bare bottom paddlings became a prominent part of Crowley’s disciplinary repertoire, there was a stark improvement in Aziraphale's behavior. Often, Crowley only needed to point at the paddle or ask “Do we need to get your paddle down?” and Aziraphale would shape up post haste. This was undoubtedly due to the acute discomfort of trying to sit in a reading chair on bruised and welted buttocks for several days after a severe paddling.

This delightfully angelic behavior lasted a long while, but, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and Crowley once again found himself enraged and scolding Aziraphale for a particularly foolish bit of risk taking as well as blatant lying. Crowley had been so worried and was now so furious, that he decided then and there that upping the ante was warranted. Aziraphale watched with horrified, tearful eyes as Crowley infused the tip of his finger with Hellfire and used it to drill two rows of three parallel holes along the angel’s paddle. Once finished, he held it up to show that the implement had been ‘enhanced’ with six perfect little blister stingers.

“You are about to be one very sorry little angel,” Crowley warned before yanking Aziraphale’s trousers and pants down and pushing him face-down over his lap.

Crowley then thoroughly blistered Aziraphale’s bare bottom while the angel wailed and kicked his feet so hard that his trousers and pants flew right off. This was just as well, since as soon as Aziraphale’s buttocks were a deep red and covered with shiny little white blisters, Crowley made the angel stand on a small step ladder in front of the shop window with his well-spanked bottom on display. He even had Aziraphale lift his shirttail up to his bellybutton, well out of the way to ensure that no part of his naked behind wasn’t exposed to the busy Soho street.

Aziraphale didn’t know (but likely suspected) that Crowley had cast a miracle to make any human passersby forget what they had seen as soon as they were out of sight. Either way, he obeyed and stayed in position, shifting his weight and sniffling, red-faced with shame while countless people gawked at his naughty, well-spanked bottom in the window.

Crowley hung the paddle back up on the wall “for next time,” blessedly confident that it would be a good long while before that time came again!


	2. Aziraphale's Strap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Extra naughty behavior calls for extra disciplinary measures - especially when a naughty angel refuses to keep still and accept his punishment!

Aziraphale knew he was in deep, deep trouble with Crowley long before Crowley even took the paddle down from its nail on the bookshop wall. 

It wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault that the only way to obtain the particular rare book he’d been after was to strike up a deal with a demon. Aziraphale had contacted this demon via an advertisement posted on a billboard near his favorite cafe. He’d known all along that he was doing business with a demon, of course, but it was only a _minor_ demon —- nobody like Crowley or Dagon, for Heaven’s sake! Furthermore, it certainly wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault that this demon, who had been trying to tempt a human but instead found himself in the establishment of an angel, had thought it a golden opportunity to get the better of said angel. Aziraphale had been so enthralled by the book that he had accidentally allowed himself to be distracted and subsequently immobilized. He would have been in real danger of discorporation or worse if Crowley hadn’t breezed into the shop just in the nick of time. 

It took only a glare from Crowley’s fierce golden eyes and a menacing hiss to send the second-rate demon scurrying back down below. Aziraphale was sure to gush over Crowley, calling him his knight in shining armor, thanking him profusely for the rescue, and trying to butter him up with the promise of favors. Unfortunately, Crowley was having none of it. Aziraphale’s goose was good and cooked.

Aziraphale pouted about it, but soon found himself over Crowley’s knee with his trousers and pants around his ankles, his plump bottom bared and propped up for the paddle. Crowley wasted little time, getting straight to it with ruthless, hard smacks of the wood against Aziraphale’s buttocks. _WHACK! SMACK! WAP!_ Aziraphale squealed and kicked from the start, each swat a scorching blow to his naked backside, the nasty little blister-holes harshly stinging the tender flesh.

Perhaps it was because Aziraphale was feeling extra petulant about the circumstances leading up to this spanking, but he thrashed and wiggled far more furiously than he usually did while bare-bottomed across Crowley’s lap. Even after Crowley applied a little demonic miracle to strengthen his hold on Aziraphale, the angel almost bucked right off at a particularly hard smack to his left sit-spot.

“That’s it!” Crowley finally snarled, pushing Aziraphale off his lap.

Aziraphale staggered and then stood glowering at Crowley, rubbing his bottom which was stinging hot to the touch. He felt momentarily triumphant about escaping the nasty bite of the paddle, but then he took in Crowley’s dark, furious face and realized with a jolt of fear that he was really in for it now. Crowley stood and Aziraphale instinctively took a step back.

“I’m sorry! I just … it hurts so badly! And it’s not fair! It wasn’t my fault that demon —- ”

“Shut it,” Crowley interrupted. “I don’t want to hear another word. All I want from you is to march your naughty arse upstairs and wait for me to finish dealing with you.”

“But Crowley, I —- ”

“Did I not just tell you to be quiet?!” Crowley snapped and Aziraphale cowered.

“Go upstairs. Get undressed. And then bend over the edge of the bed and wait for me. You’ve earned yourself a double punishment. I’ll be up there soon enough to deliver it.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. _A double punishment?!_ What did that mean? Was Aziraphale going to be spanked _again_? His bottom was already sore, though truth be told, the paddling hadn’t been as severe or nearly as long as usual when Crowley was this angry. Aziraphale had foolishly thought for half a moment that he’d wiggled his way out of such a strict punishment, but apparently he had only made things much, much worse for himself.

Crowley was giving him an intense look that not only forbade any argument, but also made Aziraphale weak at the knees, and he practically quaked with nerves at the thought of whatever further punishment Crowley had planned. Deciding that meek obedience was the safest course, Aziraphale pulled his pants and trousers up enough that he could scurry up the stairs, holding the fabric up in front, but leaving his bare, red bottom jiggling behind as he went. Maybe Crowley would notice just how red and sore it looked and grant mercy? Aziraphale could only hope!

Once he was alone in the little bedroom above the bookshop (which was rarely used, as Aziraphale didn’t need sleep), he let out a heavy sigh. He was really regretting his outburst as well as his foolish decision to get mixed up with a demon over a book in the first place. He supposed the regret was rather the point of the punishment, but he couldn’t help but stubbornly feel that Crowley was being far too strict over the whole thing. Crowley always did get the most angry when it came to situations where he perceived Aziraphale had needlessly put himself in danger. Aziraphale was extremely thankful for the rescue, of course, but surely Aziraphale hadn’t been in _that_ much danger. He was certain he could have held his own against the demon if he’d had to. _Probably_.

Aziraphale dithered as long as felt he could justify, and then quickly began stripping out of his clothes, shuddering to imagine what Crowley might do if he came upstairs to find that Aziraphale hadn’t obeyed his commands. Aziraphale let his unfastened trousers drop to the floor and stepped out of them before pulling his underwear down and off, as well. He paused. Crowley had told him to ‘get undressed,’ so, with a blush, he removed every stitch of clothing (including his socks and garters!) until he stood naked, goosebumps rising on his exposed skin in the chilly room. He flopped over the foot of the bed and wiggled his hips as he adjusted his position so that Crowley would see that his bottom was propped up and ready for further punishment. It certainly couldn’t hurt to show that he was being cooperative!

And then Aziraphale waited. His backside was already quite warm from the paddling, and it tingled and twitched with the expectation of another spanking on the horizon. Aziraphale had no idea how long Crowley intended to make him wait, but the anticipation was dreadful, and he fidgeted while draped over the edge of the bed, trembling with nerves over the uncertainty of exactly what Crowley had cooked up. It was sure to be painful and unpleasant, and so, while Aziraphale dreaded it terribly, he also just wanted to hurry up and get it over with!

Finally, after what felt like ages, Aziraphale heard Crowley coming up the stairs. It took all of Aziraphale’s willpower not to turn and look, forcing himself to be still in order to appear contrite and obedient lying face down on the bed. He heard Crowley open and then close the door softly behind him. Aziraphale’s ears pricked and his body thrummed all over as he listened to Crowley walk slowly up to the bed. And then Crowley set something down on the duvet right in Aziraphale’s line of sight that made his eyes widen. It was a strap —- the kind designed specifically for spanking. The business end was a thick, wide black strip of leather about two feet in length and securely attached to a wooden handle. Aziraphale’s mouth went dry and he struggled to swallow. This implement looked serious. Would it be worse than the paddle? Either way, Aziraphale was quite sure it wouldn’t feel very nice on his freshly paddled bum!

“I wrongly assumed that your paddle would be enough to encourage better behavior, Angel, but I have clearly underestimated your penchant for foolishness.” Aziraphale squirmed at Crowley’s tone, always embarrassed to be scolded like a child. Crowley often reminded him that if he didn’t want to be treated as such, then he should behave like a six-thousand year old celestial entity and not a naughty little cherub. 

“From now on,” Crowley continued to lecture in a stern voice, “Mischief that puts yourself in danger will result in a sound strapping with this.” He was, of course, referring to the wicked looking strap laid out on the bed. “Just like the paddle, this will be your personal strap. This time, however, I want _you_ to inscribe your name on it.”

Aziraphale whipped his head around to give Crowley a pair of pleading angel eyes that were already welling with tears. That was just _too_ humiliating to bear!

“Now, none of that. You know better than to sneak around behind my back, messing about with some depraved degenerate from Hell. You could have asked me about the book, you know? But I’ll wager you were worried I’d say it wasn’t worth the risk and you’d miss out on getting your greedy little mitts on it.”

Aziraphale’s face screwed up and the tears finally began to fall, his chest tight with guilt since Crowley had, once again, hit the nail right on the head. “Oh, Crowley! I’m so sorry! Really!”

Crowley’s strict expression softened, but only slightly. “I know you are, Angel, but not nearly as sorry as you’re about to be. Your name on the strap, please. The handle is fine.”

Sniffling, Aziraphale reluctantly held his trembling finger above the dark wood handle of the strap. As he moved it in the air, his name was written in neat script along the handle, glowing brilliantly for half a moment until it faded to a shiny gold. Crowley picked it up and admired the lettering.

“Very good,” he appraised. “Now, we also need to discuss your inability to keep still and submit to punishment you so richly deserve and desperately need. I’m disappointed with your little tantrum over my knee while I was trying to paddle you downstairs. Are you unhappy with our arrangement, Aziraphale? Do you not trust me to be fair and to keep your best interests in mind when I punish you?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question, and Aziraphale had no doubt that Crowley would give up the whole discipline aspect of their relationship in a heartbeat if Aziraphale requested it; however, the truth was, as unpleasant and painful as a spanking could be, it was something Aziraphale _did_ need. He couldn’t explain it and tried not to dwell on it, but the mere thought of refusing Crowley’s discipline made him feel adrift and forlorn.

As such, he gave his head a fervent shake and sucked in a shuddering breath before sobbing, “I d-do trust you! I’m sorry!”

“Good!” Crowley answered, smiling. “Happy to hear it. Then from here on out, if you cannot keep reasonably still for a spanking, you will get a double punishment. I don’t care if you’re getting the paddle or the strap first, but if you fuss about too much, then you will promptly receive a second spanking with the alternate implement. I’m not going to tolerate the hysterics, Aziraphale, and I have no intention of manhandling you like a brute in order to keep you in position. You know very well you were far too wiggly over my knee downstairs for me to deliver the paddling you deserved safely, so you’re about to get your second spanking —- this time bent over the bed with the strap. Furthermore —- ”

Crowley suddenly summoned a small hourglass suspended in the air just above the bed where Aziraphale could easily see it. 

“—- to be sure you fully understand the lesson about keeping still, we’re going to use a timer for you to practice. I’m going to strap your naughty bottom until the sand runs out; however, if at any point you can’t keep still and get out of position, then we’ll just have to start the timer over.”

Aziraphale’s heart sped, nervous about whether he would be able to keep still since the strap was a brand new, uncertain experience. A fresh fat tear rolled down Aziraphale’s cheek and he wiped furiously at his eyes before resolutely settling into position, a determined grimace on his face.

“Brace yourself, Angel,” Crowley said, sounding pleased with Aziraphale’s submission. With a snap, he flipped the hourglass to begin and immediately swung the strap down against Aziraphale’s bottom. There was a frightening _CRACK_ only half a second before the blazing band of fire ignited across Aziraphale’s buttocks. He howled, kicking one leg out before stomping it hard against the floor. Ignoring the outburst, Crowley let the strap fly a second time, and it landed just below the first stroke with an equally loud crack.

Aziraphale yowled and shot straight up, grabbing his buttocks in both hands and rubbing furiously at the burning agony the strap left behind. The strap was _horrible_! It was just too much to bear!

“Already?” Crowley asked, chuckling darkly. “Let’s start over, then. I suggest you keep your hands away from your bottom.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped, but Crowley only pointed to the bed, encouraging Aziraphale to get back over it. With an indignant huff, Aziraphale threw himself back over the edge of the bed. Crowley snapped, and the sand in the hourglass miraculously rose back up to refill the top. Aziraphale buried his face in his arms and cringed as he listened to the now familiar whistle of the strap swinging through the air an instant before it made burning contact against his bottom with a tremendous _SMACK!_

Aziraphale squealed, but kept position. Crowley showed no mercy, swinging the strap down hard again and again. The sting was nearly as deep as the paddle, but with an extra nasty bite to it. Unlike the paddle, however, the thick leather covered far more surface area _and_ was flexible, wrapping around Aziraphale’s plump buttocks with every stroke, the tip cutting into the side of his hip. It was worse, though, when Crowley delivered a smack to only one buttock, as the end of the strap could cut into the tender flesh _between_ Aziraphale’s cheeks, which stung like the Dickens! In fact, the more Aziraphale writhed and desperately thrust his bottom forward and back at each scorching smack, the easier it was for the edge of the strap to catch him on an especially tender portion of exposed flesh. When Crowley began to strap the backs of Aziraphale’s thighs, the end of the leather snapping around to sting his _inner_ thigh, Aziraphale just couldn’t take it and leapt up again, whirling around to give Crowley an imploring face while he clutched his bottom and bounced his knees, stomping his feet in a perfect rendition of the dance of a well-spanked angel.

Unfortunately for Aziraphale, Crowley’s expression was entirely unamused. He stared at Aziraphale with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. “Back in position,” he said calmly, snapping that damned hourglass full again. “Let’s start again, shall we?”

Even more tears spilled over and down Aziraphale’s cheeks, and he gave one foot a mighty stomp at the unfairness. “No, _no!_ Oh, Crowley, please! You can’t really expect me to keep perfectly still while you … you … use _that_.” He pointed at the strap dangling in Crowley’s grip which was looking more formidable than ever now that Aziraphale’s poor rump was on fire from its terrible sting.

“I can, and I do,” Crowley answered matter-of-factly. “And we’ll just keep starting over until you learn to stay still and accept your punishment. So I suggest you try harder or else we’ll be doing this all day.” Aziraphale let out a pitiful little sob at that, the thought of enduring much more on his already throbbing hot bottom was too horrible to imagine. Crowley merely added, “You can cry and scream all clench all you want, but you will stay in position and keep your bottom right where it belongs to take what it deserves.”

Realizing that Crowley had no intention of granting leniency, Aziraphale _boo-hoo_ ed as he reluctantly bent back over the edge of the bed, presenting his reddened buttocks again to Crowley’s mercy (or lack thereof!) However, before the sand began moving through the hourglass again, Crowley tossed Aziraphale a pillow, which the angel gladly took, burying his face into it and clutching it tightly. 

Then the timer must have restarted since Crowley was swinging the strap, cracking it down again and again against Aziraphale’s tortured backside.

Later, Aziraphale really would think about why Crowley was so angry and was punishing him so harshly. Deep down, he knew how much Crowley loved him, and he also knew that while Crowley could be indulgent, he absolutely would not tolerate Aziraphale foolishly putting himself in harm’s way. And so, Aziraphale would surely make the connection between having put himself in unnecessary danger and his bare bottom subsequently being lit on fire by both the paddle and strap. He would understand why it was so important to Crowley that Aziraphale willingly submit to his spankings instead of throwing a flailing tantrum. Aziraphale would most certainly think deeply about all of that. _Eventually_. However, the only lesson he was learning at the moment was that a bare bottom strapping on top of a paddling was agony, and that Crowley truly was a cruel demon, and that Aziraphale would do absolutely anything to avoid such a terrible punishment in the future!

Aziraphale cried into the pillow as thwack after thwack struck his jiggling buttocks, burning the flesh, and (as Aziraphale would see evidenced in the mirror later) reddening the skin to a deep, angry scarlet. Every stroke was agony, and Aziraphale tensed and shuddered and wiggled and shouted, but made damn sure to stay in position and suffer through the discipline that Crowley deemed necessary. Aziraphale’s shrill wail soon became a scream as his backside was set ablaze. Finally, Crowley must have determined that Aziraphale had been justly punished and set the strap aside. Aziraphale let his body relax, his bottom radiating such heat that he was quite certain it could warm the bookshop for the rest of winter! He sniffled into the pillow which was soaked through from his tears.

Crowley patted his back and said softly, “Another turn of the hourglass to stay and reflect on things, Angel. I’ll be back.” 

And so Aziraphale lay there with his stinging, aching bottom, mulling things over and calming down after all the ruckus of not only one, but the _two_ sound spankings he had just endured. He chanced reaching back to touch his bottom, running his fingers over the sore, puffy welts. They would make sitting down rather unpleasant in the days to come, but he had no intention of cajoling Crowley into healing them (or, Heaven forbid, healing them himself!) No, he would wear the marks like a badge of honor and a stark reminder to be on his best behavior!

Crowley returned shortly. He hissed as he took in the sight of Aziraphale’s battered rump. “I almost feel bad for being so hard on you, Angel,” he said, all the earlier anger and strictness gone from his voice. Aziraphale was glad. “You did deserve it, though.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, turning to see that Crowley had brought up a mug of steaming hot cocoa. He smiled through his tear-stained face.

“Oh, thank you, Crowley!”

“Come ‘ere, Angel.” Crowley set the mug down on the bedside table and made himself comfortable at the head of the bed. Aziraphale eagerly crawled up to snuggle up in his lap while the demon gently pet his head. 

“The cocoa’s hot, so you should wait for it to cool.”

“The same could be said for my … er … backside,” Aziraphale japed with a blush.

Crowley threw back his head and laughed before he bent down to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s clammy forehead. “Please, don’t ever go consorting with the denizens of Hell again, all right? I was so worried. Seeing you at that demon's mercy terrified me. What if I hadn't been there? For Somebody's sake, I’m sure you’ve somehow managed to take several years off my immortal life!”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I _am_ sorry, my dear."

"You know, Aziraphale, if you really wanted that damned book so bad, I would have gotten it for you."

"Really?" Aziraphale's face lit up. He had been a bit worried that Crowley would send the book back to Hell where it apparently came from. "Does that mean I can keep the book?” He batted his eyes up at Crowley who huffed, his own cheeks pinkening.

“Yeah. ‘Course. It’d be a waste to take it away after … after all the trouble.”

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, eyes bright with joy.

“Love you, too … you spoilt, rotten little thing,” Crowley responded affectionately.

The hot cocoa did finally cool enough for Aziraphale to enjoy, as did his bottom, which settled into a tingly warmth, softly throbbing as a gentle reminder that Aziraphale was very lucky, loved, and cared for. He vowed to both Crowley and himself that he would never disappoint Crowley again; however, they both knew that he was an angel who tended towards naughtiness, and deep down, they wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9)
> 
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